


Fifty-Third and Third

by ninhursag



Series: The Narrow Way [2]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Endgame Leonard Snart/Mick Rory/Sara Lance, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Multi, Murder, Timeline Shenanigans, teenage Leonard Snart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-12 21:55:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18455384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: An abberation in late '80s Central City catches the crews' attention.A future mathematician catches the attention of a serial killer.A younger version of a lost friend is right in the middle.This happens after chapter 2 of Negotiable Virtue, so read that first. Someone's messing with the timeline to make what happens in the epilogue possible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timey-whimey. 
> 
> Underaged prostitution. Obliquely described rape. Serial killers doing serial killer things.
> 
> General bad shit and bad people doing bad things to very vulnerable people. 
> 
> Dubious but consensual sex with someone underage.

_1989 (Central City)_

 

The squat stank. Mick had forgotten the smell. It's not worse than pre-revolutionary France, the shiny halls of Versailles, with, gold on the walls and drunk people's piss and shit piled up in corners where they'd stumbled. Unbathed flesh and sweat. Lilac perfume.

But there's no gilding here, no perfume, and even the wires have been scraped for copper a while back. Hell there's probably asbestos fumes and lead paint killing brains and lungs. This broken down spot in the old warehouse on Fifth and Bigelow. Uncertain plumbing. An anonymous rotation of homeless kids and junkies. Hoodlums with no place to be.

And the smell. It was something else. It's own thing.

The girl stepping through the mess by his side had obviously never seen anything like this. She had a sleeve of her sweater over her mouth and nose. Trying not to gag. Her green eyes were full of unshed tears.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” she whispered.

“It's where he said he'd be,” Mick replied.

He picked up a random pile of rags that has a skinny kid in it somewhere. “Hey,” he said, shaking the pile's shoulder. “You seen Snart?”

The rags have eyes. Narrow ones. “Who the fuck are you? His old man send you?”

Mick rolled his eyes. “Do I look like a badge?”

“You look like a heavy. And you're way too old to be here.” The rags sound skeptical. Mick tried to remember if he'd known this kid. Len would remember. Would have. He was definitely too old to be here. “Who's the chick?”

“None of your business. If you tell me where Snart is, I won't heavy your ass.” Mick muttered. “I ain't with Lewis.”

There's a pause and then a slow nod. “Well I ain't seen him leave so he's here. Back rooms. Somewhere.”

Mick took a deep breath, letting the smell get all the way into his nostrils. Fortifying him for this shit. The girl made a gagging noise and hung closer to him.

He walked through the warren of rooms, half broken down doors, and passed out bodies.

The door to one of the back rooms was still solid. Heavy. There was a working lock, he remembered. He and Len had installed it after all.

He knocked. Carefully. An old pattern, three raps, one tap. Shouldn't have done that, but it was instinct. Len would guess who he was now.

“Go away, Mick, I told you not to bother me,” a muffled yell from the other side. Familiar. Young. Jesus, what the hell was a kid that young doing here? Wait, right he was the one that was too old.

All the kids here were young. What was he supposed to say if Len opened the door and noticed he wasn't young anymore?

The girl sighed. Repeated the knock herself. Skinny knuckle on metal. She was just the right age to be here.

“It's me,” she said. “Julia. There's a guy with me, but he's ok. I don't know who Mick is.”

There was a long nothing pause. The familiar sounds of coughing and rustling, junkies moaning in the background. Then a scrape of the lock on that door. That solid lock.

Len's arm shot out. Young. Young, thin, wearing a familiar threadbare hoodie that used to be Mick's. Grasped the girl by the shoulder, hard, and tugged her inside. Door slammed behind her.

Mick could have stopped it, but didn't. Too stunned by the glimpse of that face in the gloom.

Now what?

  
  


_Twenty-four hours ago (Waverider)_

  
  


Martin is the one that found the aberration after Gideon drew his attention to the data.

“It appears that a future winner of the fields medal was prematurely cut down in the early winter of 1989 in the countryside near Central City. Her remains were found in a dumpster outside a 7-11 on the interstate,” he said.

Jax shuddered. “Sounds like a serial killer.”

“Indeed. However, in the original timeline Julia Miam is alive and well and matriculates at Stanford in the fall. She goes on to win the medal for some brilliant deductive work that is foundational for conceptualizing time travel.”

“I met her at a conference when I was a postdoc. She didn’t much like me,” Ray volunteered and laughed, shaking his head a little. Then he stopped. “She didn’t deserve to be murdered.”

“Correct,” Gideon states in her smooth electronic voice. The AI brings up images on screen of a serious faced woman in her forties, then again, younger, close in age to her death. Smiling in what looks like a class photo. “Dr. Miam's work was revolutionary. Without those underpinning, the waverider would not exist in its present form. There was a serial killer that appeared to be operating in this area in the original timeline, very likely more than one, but Dr. Miam was not one of his victims.”

Sara frowned and leaned up on her palms. “So what do we think is causing this aberration?”

“Reports of strange lights in the area going on and off. The usual nonsense.” Martin looked down at the data. “There was a contemporaneous article in the local paper suggesting that Ms. Miam may have attempted to contact the police before she was killed in order to file a report. However no report was taken. She was booked for disturbing the peace and released without being charged.”

“Sounds like a badge,” Mick muttered. He was sprawled out at the edge, feet splayed on the table. “Got in the way of their coffee break, I guess.”

“Perhaps. It appears that after her release from the station, the next sighting of Ms. Miam was of her body,” Martin said. “It was not a clean death.”

Ray closed shook his head. “That's so wrong.”

“So let's go save a scientist,” Mick said, stepping up to his feet, boots smacking the ground.

“Mathematician,” Martin replied, primly.

“Do we have anything on the killer?” Sara asked Gideon, ignoring the noise.

“As I stated there were likely multiple serial killers in operation on highway routes during this period. Not all of their identities are known, even now. Police evidence gathering was not what it would later become. No DNA, more people operating on a cash basis, less certain identification.”

“Great. Any clues?” Sara asked.

“The most prolific unidentified killer was called the Romeo and Juliet ripper by the press. However he generally took two victims, a young woman and a young man. In Ms. Miam's case, there was no man that was noted.”

Mick frowned again. “This is in Central County, right? Over by the Keystone limits?”

“Why? You know it?” Sara tilted her head, considering.

He shook his. “Yeah. I grew up around there.” But that wasn't it. It was something else, playing with his memory.

There was definitely an aberration, but he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud.

Didn't say, I've never met college girl in my life. And I've just now realized I've known her for years.

Didn't say because of how he remembered meeting her.

Because of Lenny.

  


_January, 1989 (Central County_ )

  
  


They caught up with her outside the station, he and Blondie. The whole place made Mick twitch like only small town cop shops could. Too many memories. Blondie ran with it though.

The only photo they had of her close to this age was from the other timeline, her Stanford class photo. She'd been smiling there.

Here, Julia Miam was not smiling. She was a thin girl, painfully young girl with sharp features, badly cut curly hair of an indeterminate shade of brown and clear green eyes. She was drowning in clothes that were too big for her. Her fingers twitched when she spoke. Like she wanted a cigarette. Like small town cop shops got to her too.

“I already talked to the cops. They put me in lockup for filing a false report.” She rubbed her forehead. “He said no one would believe me about what happened and he was right.”

“Who said that? The guy who hurt you?”  Blondie could speak softly when she wanted to. Gentle with someone who’d been hurt like this girl clearly had.

“Now you believe there was a guy?” She shook her head. “He didn't talk much. That guy who... It was the boy that was with me. After we got away. He said, run and don't look back.”

Sara traded glances with Mick over her head.

“What did he look like?”

For the first time, she smiled. And Mick knew what she was going to say. “Like… really cute. Dreamy. His eyes were… wow. Blue and gray and a little green. And like… his face. Wow. Do you know what the divine ratio is?” she put a hand over hers. “He saved my life.” She frowned. “I'm not going to… who are you? I already talked to the cops.”

“We're with the FBI not the local cops,” Sara said gently.  Calm, careful. Still. Mick had seen her like that, with Len. Who'd responded to it just like this girl did. “We believe you. Julia. Tell us what happened to you.”

And she looked at Sara, like she couldn’t actually believe she was doing this and she started to talk.  


_Julia Says This Happened_

  
So, the cops already talked to me about this. And it’s true, I was… I was trying to earn some money. I’m going to school in the-- next year-- in the Fall. I’m going to-- early admission, ok? But I need money to get things set up, even to get a ticket out to California.

My foster mom laughed at me when I asked. I have a-- I had a job, at the ice cream shop-- but my foster mom made me use the money to pay for-- look-- none of this matters. I was. What they say. I was soliciting. I can't. If they found out they cold revoke my admission.

He was a trucker. He looked-- I didn't do this much before. A couple of times. He smiled. He wasn't old. He had good teeth. I thought he was ok. He looked normal. Brown hair. Hazel eyes. He had on a hat.

We got into his truck and drove out. He didn't really look at me, but he was humming this tune under his breath. It was weird. Not… he kept skipping the beat. Not out of tune just wrong. Did you know that naturally there's a natural mathematical beat to-- I'm sorry, of course you don't care about that.

So. He put his hand on my thigh. I told you, I did this before right? But not. Not all the way. Like handjobs. I let them… with their… on my breasts. My…

But not all the way I don't want to get pregnant or AIDS or anything.

But this guy. There was something wrong with the way he was humming. And he had his hand on my thigh. His fingers were so smooth. Like… no calluses. Not like a trucker. He wasn't looking at me.

I was wearing a skirt. It kept riding up my thighs even without someone pushing on it. It was too cold.

We went out and out and I could hear the rhythm of the tires on the road. I started to think about the connection of the sequence of the music to…like I said, do you know what the divine ratio is?

Because then we stopped. And there was this boy at the intersection. I think he said his car broke down.

But there was this boy and he was hitchhiking at the intersection.

And he was-- he was beautiful. Like the divine ratio in the flesh. I'm serious.

And the guy-- the trucker guy-- he said something like, ‘Where you headed?’ I don't remember exactly. I think they started talking about… money. Skin.

The boy- he told me his name was Sam but it wasn't. He looked right at me. He had these eyes. I was scared I think. Like the guy, he hadn't done anything to me yet. But there was something wrong with him.

And the boy, not Sam, was shaking his head and like… stepping away, you know? Like he knew right away.

I don't think he'd have gotten in the truck if I hadn't been there. I think he'd-- it was my fault he was there.

He was looking right at me. And I didn't say anything. I tried to, um, lip sync. You know? 'Run.'

And he had these incredible eyes. And his cheekbones. His eyelashes where so dark.

And he said, 'Yeah ok. But just her. Not you. You just watch.’

And I'd have been ok with that.

We kept driving. It was dark. Like when we got out of town it was dark.

He sat between me and the trucker. He… I started babbling at him and he smiled. He didn't put his hands on me. I did. I held his hand.

I said something about sequences. Orders of things. I said some things about nothing. I told him my name. The trucker guy didn't talk. He barely talked even later when he had a knife and...

He said, hi Julia. You're going to be ok.

He told me a dumb joke. About, like….oh it was…

about sequences…

This fibonacci joke is as bad as the last two you heard combined. Haha right?

I laughed. Ok? He held my hand. I don't think he wanted to. He looked like he wanted to jump out of the truck. We should have done that.

Anyway. Anyway.

We kept driving. It was dark. He told me to take my clothes off.

Oh wait we stopped. Before he said that. The trucker. I had to take my clothes off.

Not… his name wasn't Sam. He wouldn't take his off. He said no to that. His jeans felt weird on my thighs. It didn't hurt. I think the man hurt him. He didn't let him-- his body was all on top of me. The man didn't like that, that he couldn't see me at all, but he wouldn't let him, I had my face in his shoulder. But I couldn't protect him like that.

Do I need to tell you this part? Can I just say what came after?

I had my shirt on and skirt but my underwear was ripped. I couldn't find my shoes. My feet got all cut up running.

Oh wait- Sam-- that wasn't his name-- found the heart in the freezer. Also there was a brain. Did you know that the Egyptians used to pull the brain out through the nostrils? When they made a mummy?

There was a picture in the box of these people, a guy and a girl. They looked so scared. I wonder if it was them before he killed them.

I'm sorry. I don't know where we were. Somewhere not far? I'm really sorry. You should ask him. Sam. Not Sam. He told me where to find him.

It was really dark. He had a gun. No. Not the trucker. Sam.

Well maybe it wasn't his gun originally?

He said run, Julia. And we ran. He held my hand.

His thumb was dislocated. He didn't scream at all. I did.

There was a moon by then. There were woods. I couldn't see the road. No lights. No other houses. Middle of nowhere.

He said… yes. That's exactly what he said. Do you know him?

We were running to the road. There was snow on the ground and my feet were bleeding. It was so cold.

He said, if it's cold go stand in the corner, because it's 90 degrees over there. And he held my hand so I couldn't hit him.

I don't think the guy chased us.

I'm sorry. I'm not telling this right.

We got picked up on the road by these kids from ivy town. They wanted to take us to the hospital. They gave us shoes.

He told me not to bother with the police. He said they wouldn't believe me. He said I could go with him if I wanted.

I said, listen, Sam.

He said, that's not my name. I know how they work. The cops. Julia don't.

But I wanted to call the police. Those pictures. He was going to kill more people.

He is going to. But you people. Are you going to stop him?

Please.

  
  


_After_

  


The timeline was not steady. Mick could feel it sometimes in the part of him that remembered Chronos.

He also knew he wasn't going to fix this aberration. He was going to make it worse. Bad enough to cut a hole in the future that a man could fit through.

Sara looked at him and he wondered if she knew.

He opened his mouth. “I know who she's talking about and I know where we can find him. He'll remember all the details, he's always been good at that."   
  
"It's Leonard, isn't it?"  Sara asked him. Like it wasn't obvious.   
  
"Yeah. He's-- it's January of '89. I remember he holed up in a squat on Bigelow by himself for a couple of weeks. He didn't-- he told to make sure Lise got to school. Something had freaked him out, bad. I didn't know what it was, it wasn’t something he thought he needed help cleaning up." Mick shook his head, and rubbed his eyes like he was tired. “But I knew something happened. Something very bad. In a dark room, in a dark house, in a dark wood, off the side of the road in Central County." Mick rubbed his forehead.  "He said that. Not me. He was really high. He didn't-- he didn't use much ever-- he drank. Weed sometimes. E once but he didn't like it. But then he was really high that time. He never talked about it again."

"He probably didn't tell anyone else.”   
  
Mick shrugged, open palmed. "It's not like we had heart to hearts about what we were doing on our off times.” If they had… but then he'd been an idiot too as a kid. Would he have known how to help?

“It's not your fault,” Sara told him. “A person did this and it wasn't you.”

"A lot of bad things happened to him. And he didn't... he tried so hard to not let it show. None of it was fair. I didn't protect him."

"That's not how he tells it."

"Told it. That's not how he told it, because he died to save my life. Did you know, that when I was Chronos, one time, I killed Lewis? I caught him in an alley when he was on his way to fence that fucking emerald and I beat him to death when Lenny was three."

Sara stopped, arrested. But then she had her own past she wanted changed. "What happened?"

"Everything was different. His mom-- she loved him, did you know? He went to school-- he was so fucking smart-- to Stanford. He was an electrical engineer. He married-- shit-- I forgot it was her. Did you know he married her? College girl. Julia Miam. They had a house in Palo Alto and a company they started together and three kids and two big dogs. His mom moved into an in-law. And... I.. younger me... never met him. I died in a warehouse fire when I was twenty-two after getting released from Iron Heights. And the timeline collapsed on itself."

"No Chronos to kill Lewis," Sara said, understanding right away. She got it, the way that Len could catch things.

"Right. I couldn't even save him right. Just enough to realize what he was supposed to have been."   

  


_January, 1989 (Central City)_

  
Sara came too quickly when Mick called her on the comms. Like she'd been lurking right outside.

“So she's in there with him?”

Mick shrugged. “At least now we know it was definitely him.”

“Well what do you suggest we do about it?” Sara asked, eyebrow quirked up.

Mick knocked on the door in response. "We're not the cops. We're the FBI. You're not in trouble, kid." Mick says into that too solid door.   
  
"FBI? Seriously? Is this about my dad? I have no clue where he is right now. And bringing her here is nasty."   
  
"Not unless your father drove a semi through a town called Decatur with you and Julia in it. We're with a special group, it's called the Behavioral Analysis Unit."   
  
There was a moment of silence. "Wait, like that book? Silence of the Lambs? The serial killer people? This really is about that?" A scrape of locks coming open. More than had been locked before, the first time.

Deadbolts and chains, at least four.  The door eased open, partially. A longer chain on the door kept it from opening widely enough for a person to fit through. Wide enough for them to see a sharp, skinny face, bruised and narrow eyed and wearing a cautious expression. "Why are you really after him? Did he hurt a real person this time? Don't look at me like that, my dad used to be a cop, I know what NHI cases are."  
  
"No humans involved?” Sara asked. “I know that's bullshit. We're going to get this guy.”   
  
Len's face. So familiar it hurt. The caution. The agonizing not quite hope. "You know what? Ok. Let's say I believe you. Show me your IDs. Hand 'em in."

Mick wouldn't have done it, because it was obvious how it would go. The fakes weren't that good.  
  
Sara handed them over.

Leonard. Len.

He  reached out and grabbed them and slammed the door again. Not for long.

"Oh come the fuck on. These are fake. Who the fuck are you? What is this?"  
  
Mick sighed. This was stupid. "It's not what you think. We're time travelers."   
  
"What are you doing?" Sara hissed and elbowed him.   
  
"He can smell lies. Trust me, I know him." Mick hissed back.   
  
The door cracked open. "I can smell crazy too! What the hell? Are you going to tell me about aliens too next? Like some Doctor Who shit with aliens here to exterminate all life?"   
  
"Not exactly. Come on, Lenny. We need your help.” 

His eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. What did college girl call them? Beautiful? Divine ratio?

His mouth. It opened a little. Parted lips.

“Wait. I do know you.  Mick. You're Mick. This is real.” His hand reached out. Then dropped. He took a step back and then open the last lock.

Sara took a step forward. He could see her thinking. Thinking. And then she backed his play. “You don't know me, Leonard. But I promised you… I will promise you a head in a bag once. You said no. Say yes this time."

And he stared at her like she was a crazy person and laughed. "Sure, hot blonde I don't know. Yes."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consensual but dubious sex in this one. Underage in some jurisdictions.
> 
> Everything else is only obliquely hinted at or discussed.

Leonard Says This Happened

I was headed back to Central when the car I'd hotwired gave up the ghost. Yeah, no I'll tell you about that part later, Mick. It's a better story. This one sucks. Well I'll tell… one of you. This is deeply, deeply weird, ok?

Anyway what do you want me to say? The plan was that I was going to hitch back to Central, or boost another car or something. It was cold, man. Like it is now. 

But this trucker stopped. Truckers are usually fine. They like talking, they're bored, they have money and throw it around. You can get good info from them sometimes. But this guy was wrong. You just know sometimes?

He had greedy eyes. He was looking-- he was straight that he was looking to be paid in skin for a ride. Which if the cash is good, because I could have just… it doesn't matter. So. But I'd prefer to still be wearing all my skin when it was over and the way he was looking it felt like maybe that wasn't a sure thing. And not for a ride. 

He had her in his car. I shouldn't have- but--

I threw out the plan because of that girl. I'm not… you'd have done it too. She was scared out of her mind and she had… her eyes looked like Lisa's for a second. She was in that truck and I knew if I walked away I'd see her face in the news when they found her body.

If she wasn't a throw away no one had a picture of.

It was stupid. I get that. She looked like Lisa for that one second and I got soft. Lisa could have been her if there was no one to look after her.

I could have waited for the next ride. I could have walked it but I, like I said, it was cold. I have-- had-- some shitty shoes. You know hand me downs with busted soles. Irony being I ended up running it in no shoes. Not my best moment.

So. That happened.

We were way out on the highway and he was looking at me. I smelled gasoline. Used to that smell from you Mick, and it was a highway, but it was too strong. 

Her hands were shaking. Next time, I'd take the road rash and jump her out of the truck. I should have done that.

Anyway, I can sketch him for you if you want? He was boring white guy nondescript. Mid thirties. No wedding ring. Muddy hair, muddy eyes. He'd broken his nose a couple times. He had a scar up his right arm from about the middle of the forearm-- I think probably welding accident.

If the cops put out an APB they'd pick up half the bubbas in this county. But yeah, I'd know him.

I don't think the truck was stolen so you can probably run the registration. It had California plates. California has the most trucks registered there. But he sounded local. You don't shake that county accent.

He didn't act like it was stolen, the truck, but maybe the person he got it from was dead. 

The seats stank like someone had died there. The gasoline was a cover I think. Smart, actually. But too memorable. 

It was 1.5 miles on the I-95 until we got off at exit thirty. I was watching the speedometer, and we were going exactly 56 miles an hour the whole way.

We did the rural roads for twenty-four minutes and sixteen seconds. I was waiting for a red light but there wasn't one. We slowed at curves and were mostly going 40-45.

I figured out he had a gun when we were already off the highway and we'd have gotten shot if I tried to push her out when we slowed down enough. Maybe we'd have made it on the highway since we were going fast and there were other cars, but I didn't do it then. Missed our chance. I wasn't out there to die or kill her. 

Julia was talking. She talked a lot. She talked a lot about patterns. Numbers. I tried to calm her down. Like did you know that 3.14% of Sailors are PI rates? We did primes, I think. Fibonacci numbers. 

See it's funny. I learned shit in school before I dropped out.

I should teach her to count cards. 

I could sketch out the route on a map? Like I said, he didn't try to cover his tracks. It's not like we were supposed to live to tell.

It was darker than solitary at the Iron Heights Hilton-- just the moon, and it wasn't moon rise yet, no lights other than the headlights of the truck. 

There wasn't a mailbox or street sign. I don’t think I could give you enough to find the land records.

It was a three season cabin. Too cold. My feet are still fucking cold.

We walked thirty four steps. I couldn't come up with a plan to get the gun off him. Wasn't thinking well.

Julia was shivering. I mean, it is January. 

She was so scared, he was watching her be scared and tenting his fucking pants. It was really gnarly shit.

I didn't let him fuck her. He didn't deserve to get to do that. She didn't deserve for that to happen to her.

It's not like it was the first time I put myself between a girl and an asshole. Just usually not an asshole with organs in the freezer. But you can end up just as dead. They don’t normally cut off your dick and choke you with duct tape though. Yeah-- I saw the article in the paper. He didn’t-- I’m ok.

You're not the police, you just want to find him, right? Have I given you enough to go on?

What? No I'm really fine. Peachy. I don't need a doctor.

She said I what to my thumb? No, I popped it back in-- see? It's healing. He had cuffs… it...

Why are you looking at me like that? What are you, a social worker?

Really? A robot doctor? Ok that's awesome. I'll do your robot doctor in your medbay. 

Oh, right. Long story short. He had a gun and handcuffs. I got out of the handcuffs and swiped the gun. Except it didn't have bullets in it. 

He laughed. Like he was surprised I did that. Like it made him happy, like it was funny. We ran for it. I hit him with the butt of it and told her to go. Her clothes were ripped. She kept trying to button things and it didn't work.

Like, we ran right into the woods. No shoes. I hate that shit. Running in the woods. There are wolves aren't there? Deer? Whatever I hate Bambi. That’s all I could say then. I fucking hate Bambi. 

I don't think he chased us. 

I saw in the papers when I got back to Central. They found a body in a dumpster a week ago. Some guy. Like I said, in the paper. Mummified in tape, dick cut off, electrical burns, serial killer shit. I don't know if that kid didn't run or didn't get a chance to. Another body in a trash bin in the next truck stop over. A girl. Runaways. Not human.

Now what? What are you going to do to him?

Wait, was that literal? That's sweet but I don't have anywhere to keep a head in a bag.

 

The waverider

Mick watched while Len and Julia were in nerd heaven from the second they saw the ship. She was muttering about math and he was going on about comic books, looking at everything like it's the best shit he'd ever seen. 

Gideon kicked everyone but the two kids out of the infirmary, probably on Snart's say so. He looked a little nervous, but biting down on it when the doors slid shut behind him. 

Sara rubbed her forehead and looked at Mick. “We're going to have to wipe their memories,” she said.

“I know,” he growled. “It ain't right.”

“I know that too.” Her eyes were closed. “It wasn't always like this for him, was it?”

Mick pretended he knew for sure when he shook his head. That he had even known what the hell Len was doing until he'd been told about it. “Nah. He's getting older. We have some money for equipment to pull real jobs and cred to go with it. This was just bad luck.” He was just glad she hadn’t asked if this was the last time. 

Gideon reported to them on the state of the timeline. 

“Picking up Dr. Miam from the police station appears to have prevented her death. The Romeo and Juliet killer does not take another victim, but the effect on the timeline appears insignificant,” she said calmly. “Dr. Miam begins her undergraduate studies as expected and Mr. Snart's timeline is minimally affected until he destroys the Oculus.”

“He gets arrested?” Ray asked.”The killer, not Snart?”

“No or at least not as such. He merely disappears from history. Police and historians assume he died or was arrested for a different crime.” 

Mick smiled to himself. That meant that asshole was fair game. Sara caught his eye and shrugged at him. He wondered vaguely if she was going to fight him to be the one who takes the guy down.

He wondered if Snart would.

“So what caused it? The anomaly?” Ray asked. “I heard blue lights and all of that, but there’s nothing here that sounds like we’re dealing with time pirates. Why did this happen?” 

There's a long pause and then Gideon finally responded. “That remains unknown.”

They looked at each other and Mick frowned. Sara pursed her lips and looked away. He wasn’t going to ask what she knew that they didn’t.

Quietly, later, while Len was in the galley actually teaching Julia to count cards and laughing about it while Raymond commented from the sidelines, Gideon reported something to Sara.

Mick didn't hear what it was, but he saw the rage in her eyes after, the tightening of her fists. She looked over at the kids-- at Len, laughing like he wasn't bruised up. Showing off some sleight of hand trick with the cards like he didn't have a dislocated thumb. At Julia, who smiled and leaned closer to him, like he was her fucking hero. 

Too fucking happy to be on a timeship to care.

Sara's blue eyes were too bright.

“Hey Birdie,” Mick said quietly.

“Hey Rory,” she said back. “He's acting like nothing happened. You heard what happened to him. Gideon confirmed it.”

Mick shrugged. “What's he supposed to do? He already holed up in the dark for a while. Then we pulled him out of there and put him on a fucking time ship. He's always been into this shit.” 

“I don't know.” She looked away. “When it was me. I couldn't have just gone on. It ruined my life for a long time.”

Mick rolled his eyes and made a noise. Then softly, because Snart had paused at the table and looked at them. Frowning, curious. You didn't want him curious. “You think it didn't ruin his?” Mick whispered. 

She didn't look back at him. “Anyway, you don't look ruined to me, Blondie.”

She rolled her eyes and half smiled. “Aww, Mick, you're a sweetheart.” 

 

Later

He finally managed to drag himself to his room, after. Not to sleep. Which was fine, because there was a knock on the door almost immediately after.

“Mick, can I talk to you?”

And it was Len. Len looked strung up tight, shoulders clenched and fists in his pockets, hovering near the door of Mick's room. His face was still and expressionless, the only part of him that was. That took practice.

“Sure, boss,” Mick said easily and gestured him inside. 

Len smiled faintly, probably at the ‘boss’ part, and looked at Mick, head on. “I-- Julia? She asked me to-- But I shouldn't do this with her,” he said, like it was a factual statement. “After this. We'll fuck each other over. She's got a future and I… I'm going to own this city someday. She doesn't want that.”

Mick shrugged, cracking his shoulders. “You think about this crap too much. She looks like she likes you. You look like you like her. She asked you to.”

Len face was so young. Waiting for something. His expression though… that was something he'd seen before, once. An adult Lenny looking him dead in the eye, sure of this part. I want to try, Mick.

“I just don't want to fuck this up. If I'm going to do this, I don't want to make it worse.” And here with the weird part-- this was Len looking at him, at Mick, like he was the one who knew shit. And the fact was he did. Decades of shit. Because Len was a kid. A kid who had seen some of the worst things a kid could, but still.

“Worst way to fuck up is not to do anything.” He smiled a little and settled back on his elbows. “Go. Len. Go see about your girl.”

And Len smiled back, and it was golden. Perfect and young and hopeful. And then he didn't leave. 

He came in further instead and sat down on the edge of Mick's bed.

“She said I saved her. But I read a book,” he said, because of course reading books was what Len did. He smirked. “A dirty book actually. There was a line in it… you can't save people, you can just love them. Do you think that's true?”

“Sure, Lenny, that sounds great,” Mick agreed, like he knew what they were talking about. “I’m sure I agree.”

Len nodded and edged closer. Then he opened his mouth again, and something else completely came out. “So… are you going to do something to me? To make me forget this?” Sharp again. Eyebrow raised. “That- I'm what in your future? In a coma? On death row? Dead?” He stopped, watching Mick’s reactions, a reminder that actually, kid or not, this was still Snart. “That one, huh?”

“How did you--”

Len shook his head. “I don't mind forgetting. This was-- I'm glad I met you like this. But this isn't the first time we've met, is it? Right? Boba Fett? You've made me forget before. Haven’t you?” 

“How did you know?” Mick whispered. “You were… you were supposed to forget.” Most of the times.

Len shrugged. “You're wearing the same gloves, I remember the gloves. Touching me,” he muttered, looking down at his own hands. Bare at the wrists. Marked and ringed where he'd fought handcuffs too recently. “Even when I can't see your face, you're the same. You act like I'm going to disappear on you. You act like you're not sure if you want to fuck me, kill me, or just… whatever. But it's ok… my hands are dirty too, you know? You can do what you want.”

“It's the furthest thing from ok. You have no idea what you're talking about, kid,” Mick said. He tentatively reached out, like he was going to touch that bruised wrist. Len flinched back before he could, pulling his arm tight to his chest. 

Then he stopped. Grit his teeth. Looked Mick in the eye. Like he was forcing himself. There was sweat beading his upper lip and he licked it off. Carefully. Trying to be sexy and not scared. “I'm sorry. Let me try this again, see if I can do it better. I jerk off thinking about you, you know? A lot. Your hands on me. This you. The you that… my friend. You can-- do you kill me? Is that why you're acting like this?”

The idea, in his brain. It hurt. It fucked him up. And Lenny jerked off thinking about him.  
“No. No. No.” Yes. Wait.

A deep breath from Len. “I didn't think so.” 

“You're a kid, Lenny. Go. Be a kid.” Mick turned away. “Go follow college girl. Get out of here.”

“I will. I absolutely will. Just after this. It's ok.” Leonard took a deep, loud breath. Then, suddenly, too fast, pushed himself forward, forcing Mick back. Mouth attached to Mick's, hard and hungry. Young. 

Fearless and scared out of his mind. He was shaking all over. Mick was scared to touch him back, in case he flinched. 

But then Mick wasn't a good man, never had been. He kissed back even when he didn't reach out to touch more. Hardened the kiss, gave it teeth and tongue. Sucked in the smell and the weight of this.

“Don't worry,” Len told him, smiling a little, while his fingers twitched on Mick's body, skin on skin. Panting a little. Touch like fire. Len could touch. “17 is legal in the great state of Misery. This is crime free.” 

It didn't feel crime free. It didn't feel like he could or should say no, but it felt nothing like innocent. Lenny's bare hands on him were not something he could say no to. Len could touch even if Mick couldn't.

A half growled whisper in his ear. “You want me so bad, don't you? I can't believe I never let you. So come on.” And Len pushed him down onto his own bed, just strong enough with the leverage of surprise, with the way Mick didn't even want to fight. Len with all his clothes on, but wrinkled, disheveled, with a bruised face and a bloody, bitten lip.

And Mick said, “Lenny,” like he didn't know what he was saying.

And Len laughed against his skin. His eyes were so intent and he didn't look afraid at all when he ground his hips down against Mick's. “I'm not a virgin, don't look so scared, old man,” Len murmured, those blue, blue eyes gleaming. “I bet you want to fuck me for every time I kept you waiting.” A kiss, followed by a bite. Len's hands tugging at the long hem his shirt. “I can't believe you let me keep you waiting. I can't believe you've been waiting.”

And Mick said, “It's not like that.” Even though for a long time he’d thought it was exactly like that. He understood now. But he kissed Len back one more time and let him pull the shirt off, leaving him bare chested, shiny burn scars and all.

Len sat back on his heels and stared for a second, but not like he was seeing a freakshow. More like he was amazed. Seeing Mick. He touched again, carefully. Fingers on scars. “I've never wanted to do this before.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Mick said, short and helpless. 

That smile, smug and hopeful, both at once. Eyebrows tilted up. Len surged forward, pretty mouth, pretty hands, the shape of everything else hidden under layers. A secret. Another sharp, grinding motion of hips on hips.

Mick could feel the angles of him, the ones he couldn't see. How hard he was, how sharp. The planes of his face. Just a damn kid.

Beautiful eyes. Perfect radio. Golden Ratio. Whatever.

“He told me it would be easier than I thought,” Len whispered. “And that it would be so worth it.”

Mick didn't ask who until later, much later. Should have been obvious all along. 

Now there was the urgency of this kid unzipping his pants and grinning at him. Pressure and hard calloused palms. Careful fingers. Lenny, his Lenny, jerking him off nice and easy while he rutted down against his knee like he was going to come in his pants. He'd have to since he clearly had no plans to take anything off and Mick wasn't going to ask them.

Lenny who collapsed against him, after, and rested there, still panting and smiling, sweet and slow. Not long, but long enough.

Who said thank you and then, very neatly and easily and pulled up Mick's pants and zipped him back up, like he wasn't a sticky mess. He had an intent look on his face while he did it, eyes narrowed when he pulled Mick's shirt back on.

Like this was important, putting everything back the way it was. 

“Weirdo,” Mick muttered and Len grinned at him and kissed him again on the mouth.

Len shrugged and grinned to himself. “See you later, Mick.”

 

Later still, when it was almost morning and he was still awake, he found Sara sitting alone in front of a desk, he asked her. “So you know the aberration, the anomaly, it's still happening, right?”

She just looked at him, both eyebrows raised. “Why would you say that?”

He took a deep breath. “Here’s the thing, Birdie. I remember her. She’s College Girl. Snart’s on again, off again. I remember driving to California with him being an asshole the whole trip and pretending it wasn’t because he was that fucking nervous. He threw pebbles at her dorm room window because he saw some loser do it in a movie and thought it would be romantic. He ran an operation to help her crack a bunch of yuppie assholes cheating in a class she was teaching. He loved that girl for years. Except, I could swear I’d never met her before this and Snart never had a girlfriend, definitely not for that long.”

“And what do you want to do about it?” she asked, calm as anything. “Gideon says his timeline is minimally affected up until he blows up the Oculus.” 

He slouched down and made a face. “Nothing. I just want to know who is playing with this shit. Don’t you want to know too?” She looked at him and didn’t quite smile. “Or is the reason you’re being so fucking easy going about all of this is that you already do know?”

And she said, “Ok, you’ve got me.” And looked so fucking smug and happy about it he wanted to punch her in the face. And then she said, “Turn around.” And suddenly, he couldn’t breathe at all.

Because there, or at least sort of there, if not in the flesh, was the smuggest asshole he’d ever seen, in actuality. And he felt less like punching and more like grinning than he had in a long time.

Later still, so late it was early again, he saw Len, kid Len, talking to Sara, in a quiet corner over coffee. “I'm not four feet ten and I'm wearing a lot more than a sock so that's not fair.”

Sara laughed and said, “Don’t ask me, I only read the sparknotes.” Then she shook her head and walked away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, I finished it! If you're reading thank you very much, kudos and comments appreciated :)
> 
> This chapter contains: Firey vengeance and murder. Mind the tags.
> 
> I do feel like this series needs a Sara pov story to round it off but I'm not sure what hook to hang it on so we shall see!

Outside Central City

 

He and Blondie agree to do it together. Snart asks about coming. Julia doesn't she just shakes her head, lips tight, and looks away. 

Sara looked at Snart when he said he wanted in and said, “Let an adult do something for you, Leonard. Try it on and see if you like it.”

And Snart laughed. “Well it's not like I can get used to that.”

“So take this one time on the house,” Mick said. “And remember that things change.”

Snart tilted his head back and smiled tightly. “I know. They already have.” His gaze shifted from Mick's face down to his lap and the smile loosened a little. He looked up from under those stupid eyelashes. “I'm trusting you. Adults.” He didn't exactly lick his lips but he did look a lot like the cat that scored a gold fish 

Sara rolled her eyes and looked them both over. Mick looked away. He didn't think Leonard did. “Oh Mick,” she said. “You didn't.”

Len just shrugged easily, and talked before Mick had a chance to. “Don't oh Mick him. I'm Lolita here, at least according to you.”

“The SparkNotes told me it wasn't Lolita's fault.” Sara said quietly.

Snart held her glare with one of his own. “I'm allowed to want it. Heal my wounds, if you want to put it that way. And isn't that the point of this whole exercise?” He looked at Mick and then back at Sara. “After all you're allegedly the good guys but you're killing him, not calling the cops. There's a reason for that.”

In the end Leonard does come with them, but he says he'll wait in the car.

He is uncharacteristically silent on the drive up, just shifting in his seat, playing with the belt strap and staring blankly out the window. He said, “Yeah, here,” when they get there.

He's quiet. Arms folded over his chest. He looked small and young. Sara offered him a hand, but he winced away from it. 

It smells of death, the place. Small and dark. There's a pair of handcuffs with blood on them that are still dangling from the headboard of an old fashioned oak bed frame. That's probably Lenny's blood.

The guy was asleep on the bed before they kicked the door down. He's awake when they come in, reaching for a gun. Sara knocked it out of his hands.

He looked like Snart had described him. Boring. Nothing. “That boy,” he said, as soon as he saw them. “I didn't know he was connected. I wouldn't have taken him if I'd known. I let him go, that has to count for something. I didn't know he was… families or whatever you people are.” 

Mick punched him in the face. There had been bruises on Lenny's face. 

There was blood on this asshole's, this monster's. 

“Sure,” he hissed, grabbing the thing by the collar. “It counts We'll make it faster.” 

“He wasn't even a good fuck.” The guy said. “I didn't even come.”

Sara breaks his back with her bo. Or Mick breaks his neck. One of those.

Mick gets to see some of the place when he douses it in gasoline and combustibles.

There are pictures on the fridge. Kids. Victims. Alive and terrified. Most have X's on them. There's one of Julia, the last one, no x on it, sitting in a truck cab, biting her lower lip, hair in her eyes.

None of Lenny, which makes him feel better for some reason. 

There were things in a wooden chest. A tazer. A whip. Knives. A torture chest. He looked at Sara who shook her head.

“Gideon said the injuries were mostly superficial. They weren't tortured. They weren't tortured beyond the-- the rape.” He watched her make herself say the word. She was the only one who would. 

Mick nodded and poured accelerant on the chest too. It would need to burn hot and beautiful. 

They sat on the hood of the car with Lenny in the middle watching it go up. His eyes were so clear and blue, Mick could have watched the flames reflected in them forever. Fire and Len watching it. Close enough to feel the heat and hear the whoosh and crackle.

“Can I blow you?” Len asked when the fire started guttering out and Mick could pay attention to words again. Sara snickered and Len looked at her under his lashes. “You too, but you said you weren't interested.”

“Let's say I'm holding out for the you that's not seventeen. Even if he's more repressed.”

"He didn't want to be,” Len said and smiled that perfect smile. Then turned it on Mick. “I don't either. So, can I?”

And Mick touched him carefully, hand on the sharp plane of his cheek and said, “you can do anything you want, boss. I'm all in.”

 

Snart walked away after, after they flashed him and drugged the memory away with amnesia pills. Walked away, young and thin, with a mouth bruised from kissing. 

He looked forward, not back. 

“Julia,” he yelled, running after the girl. “Wait! I'll drive you. To California! Can I?” And college girl stopped and smiled at him. She reached out a hand and he hesitated. Then took it.

“Do you even have a car?” She asked. He came up closer. Hesitated.

“I'll get one.”

And he shrugged and kissed her like he did it every day. Like it was easy now.

 

2017

 

When the waverider touched down in 2018 Mick's phone rang immediately. 

“Hey, college girl.” 

“Mick,” Julia said “I saw our friend. I think I know when to find him. The real him. Can you get to Boston?”

After

 

“Mick gave me the idea,” Len said and smiled faintly. It was strange to see him, graying hair and easy confidence. Not a kid at all. And not the Lenny who'd gone kaboom at the vanishing point. “With Chronos playing games in my past. It changed things. Not enough but closer. It made me open to the idea of… this… us. And I wanted that, I wanted to want it. The Oculus gave me the ability to nudge things.”

“So you did more, changed more.”

“Well, I’m 43. It was either that or spend another decade figuring out how to do this. Why not nudge some possibilities and make my younger self do the work?”

And the he smiled that smug, knowing smirk, aiming at Sara this time. “So. I'm not seventeen,” he said. “What are your thoughts?”

“Yes, I know you’re not.” And he smiled until she kissed it off of him.


End file.
